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TOASTEM
= Apparustus Mortem = Edit 0 10… Toast Gorespread A Heretek devoid of all emotions bar rage and envy, Toast Gorespread is often handed the short end of the stick in most situations*. Is also rather incompetent when it comes to talking to... Anything. Even himself. Diabeto Slavito was a poor factory worker who always aspired to become one with the machine. Unfortunatly the Tech-Preists kidnapped him, lobotimizing him to be a slightly-retarded/aggresive Guardsmen. Being diabetic however, made him lucid during these experiments (having eaten a candy bar before hand) driving him into a murderious killing masheen. Killing all the Tech-Preists in the room, he crudely grafted their junk (hue) all over his poor mexican body. Now known as Apparustus Mortem, he follows his Chaos Champion Zharak, living only to spill blood like a psychopathic 5-year old. LA SANGRE DE LA SANGRE DIO!!!!!! UnFortunately he is now the butt-slave of Sand Mutants. = At long last: The full version: = Trapped, imprisoned, -Toast- sat in the secluded, windowless room, accused of heretical acts, against the Emperor, and the Omnissiah. He reviewed the past events, questioning why it was him, who faced punishment, why him who was locked up. In the name of progress, and perfection, he had forged contraptions of war, ignoring the STCs, seeing the flaws in them, and replacing them, avoiding the watchful gaze of his Magos, and fellow Techpriests, knowing they would not approve of his ‘changes’ to his work. Upon finishing a last modification to one of his Servo Arms, when he felt the cold metal of the Magos’s hand on his left shoulder, and the blade of his Power Axe on the other, there was no way out, he was caught. The crunching, clanging, and churning of machines was all –Toast- could hear from his cell, “The only comfort granted” he thought, his hand tapped the wall in time with the machines subconsciously, while he thought of how to get out, thinking, thinking, until there was a long silence, followed by an explosion loud enough to make the ground shake. Footsteps outside, as the Skitarii were mobilizing away from the armory and cells. –Toast- finally had his chance, he pressed onto his stomach, pushing a blade through from the inside, grimacing, and muttering, “The Flesh is Weak” over and over again, until the multi-tool was out of his stomach, in his hand, and working at the bolts in the door. Although it was a simple tool, he eventually had his opening. “The Armory” was his only thought as he ran, his stomach barely held together by implants, blood trailing behind him. He counted the doors, past the cells, and the barracks, until he reached the armory, door still open from the Skitarii gathering their equipment. He was lucky, whatever force was watching over him that day was smiling, the Servo Arms he was working on were still there, yet to be disposed of, as well as a forgotten Skitarii uniform and Lasgun, nothing amazing, but to –Toast- it was a blessing. He gathered everything he could, and ran as fast as his weak flesh would carry him, towards the explosion, hoping that whatever it was, would be enough to distract the factory, until he was long gone. As he entered the main manufactory, a group of flack-armored men appeared behind him. Without a second thought, he activated his Servo Arms, spun around, and began to tear them apart, shooting those he couldn’t grab, in a blessed bloodlust, he fought for his life, killing the men. As he lifted the last one with the Servo Arms, he heard a loud, deep voice from behind him, “Turn around slowly” said the voice, “You are going to get one chance to answer me... I am going to offer you salvation from your laws, your rules, and your false Emperor, to build, and create for a better cause… And you are going to say ‘Yes’.” –Toast- was nearly speechless, as he finally turned around, he saw the massive, red and bronze armor clad men, barely able to mutter out the word “Yes”. The armor-clad men grinned wickedly, “Good... Now baptize yourself… Bathe in the blood of the one above you… In the blood of those you stand victorious over.” -Toast- kneeled, as his muscles flexed slightly, as the Servo arms tore at the man above him, a brief scream of “No! NOOOOOOO!” was heard, before the man was in two, and a shower of gore rained down upon the kneeling man, “Of Course… my lord. What would you have me do?” -Toast- Was taken back to a gun-cutter, rushed from the now-crumbling factory, into the frigate in low orbit, until the Chaos Marines were finished raiding the factory world. They took him to their Dark Mechanicus, where he quickly got to work, building and maintaining their weapons, and joining in the Marines during their planetary raids, maintaining their tanks and weapons mid-battle. Until his Warband found its way to the Screaming Vortex, retreating from the Imperium for a short time, to recuperate, enjoy their spoils, and gather more followers. *for most situations see: Being sold into slavery. Category:PC Category:Godlike Category:40K Category:Griffin